Suspicions
by Kalexico
Summary: Quinntana fluff. One-off.


Santana tries to walk as quietly as possible, one foot in front of the other. She looks to the left, to the right, around the corner and over her shoulder.

Nobody in sight.

She grins, licks her lips and enters the kitchen.

There they are. They're practically screaming her name, begging for her to take them and devour them. She bites her lip, her heart beating faster than ever. She's almost there, just a few more steps.

She stretches her hand, opens it and gets ready to grab one when -

"Santana Celeste Lopez."

Santana groans and turns around. She tries to look as innocent as she possibly can. She puts on a sickeningly sweet smile, bats her eyelashes and asks: "Yes, dear?"

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing, dear."

"See, I know you're lying to me. One would think that you should know after seven years that I can tell when you're not being honest with me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Quinniepuff."

"Gotcha!"

"W-what?" Santana splutters.

Quinn moves closer and places her hands on Santana's waist, sending shivers down her spine. She grins triumphantly. "You only call me Quinniepuff when you're trying to talk yourself out of a bad situation. Like that time when you tried to deny that you fed Walter human food?"

"That's not fair! I told you, he looked at me with those big brown puppy eyes and I just _couldn't_ resist. You really can't judge me for that, he never does it to you."

"Oh, he does. The only difference is that I can deny him and he knows he'll always get what he wants from you. Face it, Lopez, you're a sucker for that dog. And Frank knows it too. But that's not what we were talking about. What were you planning to do just now?"

Santana licks her dry lips and smiles nervously. "Honestly, Fabbiewabbie, I have no idea what you're talking about. And I told you that Frank has his cat thing going for him, you have no idea how hard it is to resist when he comes crawling up to you so lovingly and looks at you that way."

Quinn's eyebrows shoot up in the air. "Fabbiewabbie? Really?"

"Oh come on now, Fabrainbow..."

"You're not helping yourself, _Sanniewannie_," Quinn says, emphasizing the dorkish nickname.

"But you _are_ my Fabrainbow! You fill me with joy and happiness and gaiety - get it?"

Quinn squints her eyes. "Are you trying to distract me from the fact that I basically just caught you with your hand in the cookie jar?"

"I beg to differ," Santana protests. "I really was just walking over to the fridge to have an orange juice. You see, I was working out this training schedule and I just had this sudden craving for home made orange juice and I remembered that my utterly perfect wife had made some earlier today, and I thought to myself, Santana Lopez, why don't you have a glass of orange juice?"

"Then I have two questions for you. One, why are you on your socks? Two, why are you standing right in front of the plate of brownies if the fridge is all the way on the other side of the kitchen?"

"Well, my slippers were really smelly and I was only making a detour."

"And what if I told you that I had been standing in the doorway for five minutes?"

"Then I would tell you that that's impossible because I made sure the coast was clear before I - oh _fuck,_" Santana curses.

"Before you got a glass of orange juice?" Quinn asks playfully. "Admit it, Santana, you were going to eat a brownie."

"But your brownies are just so good," Santana whines. "I honestly don't see why we're giving them all to Berry! If I really could just have one brownie, baby," she pouts. "As a compensation for the fact that I have to put up with Berry all afternoon. Berry _and_

Mr Schue's long lost son."

Quinn can't help the smile that's tugging at her lips. She wraps her arms around Santana waist and gives her a peck on the lips. "You know, I think it's about time you get over the fact that he had a thing or two to say about your performance of _Back to Black_ back when we were juniors. Seriously, it's been eight years."

"But I totally nailed it!" Santana huffs. "He just wanted to get into Berry's pants. God knows why."

"Looks like he succeeded eventually," Quinn winks, leaning in for another soft kiss - a longer one this time. "And if it makes you any happier, when he got drunk on their engagement party, he told me that in all honesty you were the best performer."

"Then why have you not told me this before?"

"Because it was fun to watch you sulk about it."

"You bitch!" Santana gasps mockingly. She then grabs Quinn's shoulders and pushes her back a little. "But - really? Did he really say that?"

"Yes, he did," Quinn says mockingly. "Now I have to find a proper punishment for you, Santana. I honestly can't bake something for someone around here without you trying to sneak into the kitchen and snack some."

"It's your fault. It's ridiculously good. You should see it as a sign of my appreciation."

"I know another way for you to show your appreciation - we only have to leave in about an hour."

Quinn gives Santana the bedroom eyes.

Santana instantly forgets about the brownies.


End file.
